


private show

by the human eyes emoji (nicole_writes)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Established Relationship, F/M, For the Sylvgrid Discord who all jumped on board Model!Sylvain way way too fast to be normal, In which Sylvain is a model and Ingrid gets a private show, Ingrid Tops, Sylvain Tops, it's a good time, it's kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26401549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicole_writes/pseuds/the%20human%20eyes%20emoji
Summary: After all the suffering Ingrid has endured, the least Sylvain can do is give her a private show, right?
Relationships: Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 11
Kudos: 38
Collections: Fódlan Quarterly





	private show

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So this is a mostly indirect sequel to a fic I posted on my SFW pseud which is short and entirely in text format. You can (and should) read that first for a bit more context! 
> 
> It's called [paying rent](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26380174)!
> 
> This is dedicated to the sylvgrid discord for hopping on board the model!sylvain agenda way too quickly, but especially to the artists who gave me many amazing renders of underwear model Sylvain...

After the phone call, Ingrid leaves her room, tapping her phone against her palm as she thinks about all the years of tension that were just aired over the phone. When she enters the living room, Felix pauses the video game he’s playing on the TV and looks up at her. 

“That was less yelling than I expected somehow,” he says. 

Ingrid shrugs. “I think we’re dating now?”

“Really?” Dimitri asks from the kitchen. “At this point, I kind of thought Sylvain was never going to work up the guts required to ask you.”

Ingrid rolls her eyes. “He didn’t. I asked him.”

Felix snorts. “Of course.”

Dimitri fidgets with the lid of the take-out container that he’s holding. “So, you saw it then?”

Ingrid shrugs. “The spread? Yeah. Annette, Hilda, Dorothea, and Mercedes all sent it to me.” She looks at Felix. “And you put it under my door.”

Felix just unpauses his game, apparently disinterested. “And?” he says. 

Ingrid shrugs. “I dunno, it’s just a photo, isn’t it?”

She feigns disinterest as best she can and thanks every god she can think of that Dimitri is completely gullible. She doesn’t need Felix or Dimitri to know that when she had first opened the V Fashions website and seen her roommate there that she had dropped her phone to the floor. She had then, admittedly, picked it up and just stared at the advertisement that Sylvain had modelled for. 

Of course, it had to be an underwear spread where they put the tightest possible briefs on a very, very fit guy. 

Ingrid doesn’t have to look at the photo to remember what it looks like and what her instinctive reaction had been. She can picture it in her head: Sylvain lounging low in an armchair, legs spread and abs on full display. The underwear had been dark maroon with a black band and stripe down each leg. The light had perfectly illuminated his annoyingly chiselled chest and the bulge that was artfully on display in the ad. 

The focus should have been on the product being sold, but Ingrid had been embarrassingly turned on by the single shot of her longtime friend. To her dismay, she had then found several other, equally as attractive spreads featuring Sylvain modelling various underwear styles. Ingrid had spent all of five minutes looking at the photos and appreciating Sylvain’s very cut physique before she had texted him. 

An awkward conversation and almost three-hour phonecall later, Ingrid no longer feels bad appreciating Sylvain’s body since apparently they’re dating? Whatever. Apparently he’s had a thing for her for ages and she’s been thoroughly and annoyingly attracted to him for almost as long. 

He’s due home from the gym any minute and Ingrid really doesn’t know what’s about to happen. Hence, the nervousness and standing in the living room of her apartment. Felix seems to notice that Ingrid hasn’t retreated from the living room and he pauses his game again. 

“When’s Sylvain coming back?” he asks. 

Ingrid shrugs. “Less than 10?”

Felix immediately shuts off his game. He stands up from the couch and looks over at Dimitri. “Hey, Dimitri, let’s go bother Dedue and Ashe,” he says and the way that his tone lands is not a suggestion: it is practically a command. 

Ingrid flushes at Felix’s unsaid implication, but she can’t really refute him because she’s been feeling all kinds of twisted up inside since she first saw the terribly attractive photos of her best friend. 

Dimitri, oblivious as always, just shrugs. “Uh, okay, should I call them?”

“Nope,” Felix says, turning the TV off. “We’re leaving right now.”

Ingrid stands there dumbly as Felix herds Dimitri out of the apartment. They’re about to exit the front door when it swings open and Sylvain steps into the apartment, gym bag slung over one shoulder. He’s wearing a tight-fitted t-shirt and joggers and his hair is damp. Ingrid notices, almost immediately, that everything he’s wearing except his shoes is V Fashions branded and she’s not sure how she messed that up for as long as she did. 

“Hey, Fe, Dimitri, where are you guys going?” Sylvain asks as Felix brushes past him out of the apartment, practically dragging Dimitri behind him. 

“Out!” Felix calls before he slams the door, leaving Sylvain and Ingrid standing in the apartment. 

Sylvain slowly turns towards her, dropping his gym bag down from his shoulder. “Uh, hey,” he greets awkwardly. 

Ingrid tucks one foot behind the other and forces a smile. All of the confidence she had had when she had texted him after their phonecall has completely vanished and she feels a bit like an awkward schoolgirl. 

Sylvain steps towards her and Ingrid looks up at him. “How much of that phonecall do you want to rehash?” he asks. “Because I’d really like to do the girlfriend part again,” he says. 

Ingrid laughs, tension ebbing away because despite everything, this is still Sylvain and he’s still easy to talk to. “You do, huh?”

Sylvain’s hands drop to her waist and he pulls her a little closer, a smug smile curling up on his lips. “If you’re okay with that.”

“Alright, well, Sylvain, why didn’t you tell me sooner that you thought I was, and I quote, ridiculously attractive, a huge tease, and your actual soulmate?”

He hums. “Because I was intimidated by you and all your sexiness,” he replies, going completely off-script from what actually happened.

Ingrid shoves his chest, rolling her eyes. He doesn’t let go of her as he grins. Their closeness catches up to her quickly and her thighs tighten as her brain unintentionally conjures the image of her friend (boyfriend?) in nothing but a tight-fitting pair of briefs. Sylvain raises an eyebrow. 

“Ing?”

She covers her face with her hands, blushing. “Nothing!” she squeaks. 

Sylvain kisses her forehead. “Okay,” he says, sounding entirely unconvinced. “I don’t believe you, girlfriend.” He says the title with such endearment, that Ingrid lifts her hands away to smile at him. 

“Date me?” she asks in almost the exact same manner it had happened over the phone. 

“Done,” he replies, leaning forward and kissing her lightly on the lips before she can process that he is moving. 

Ingrid blinks and her lips tingle. “Oh.”

Sylvain looks around the apartment. “So Felix and Dimitri just booked it?”

Ingrid shrugs. “I guess they did.”

Sylvain looks back at her and smirks. “You still want that private show?”

Ingrid grabs the front of his shirt and pulls him down into a much fiercer kiss, sealing their lips together and immediately pressing her tongue at the line of his lips. Sylvain opens his mouth to her, his hands bunching up in the fabric of her shirt. Sylvain’s kiss is burning hot and Ingrid steps closer to him, pressing their fronts completely against each other as she winds her arms around his neck. 

Sylvain’s arm wraps around her more fully, hand sliding up under her shirt to toy at the clasp of her bra. His palm is warm on her back and Ingrid’s skin tingles. She tilts her head back, opening her mouth further as Sylvain pushes against her, his tongue pushing back into her mouth. Ingrid breaks the kiss when she can’t breathe and realizes that she’s completely bent in Sylvain’s arms, held tightly against him. 

Sylvain doesn’t waste any time, pushing his face into her neck as he starts sucking at the skin below her ear. His teeth and tongue create a rhythm that makes Ingrid gasp as he nips and then the flat of his tongue soothes before he sucks, pulling lightly at her skin. She twists one hand into his hair, pulling at the strands that are still damp from a post-workout shower. 

Sylvain seems intent on leaving as many marks as she’ll let him and Ingrid is simultaneously turned on and annoyed, so she yanks at his hair until he pulls back, a bit of saliva landing on his lip as he grins at her. 

“Hey,” he says lowly. 

“Fuck you,” Ingrid breathes, her head almost spinning from the intensity of her desire. She’d been wound up for hours every time she even thought of his damn photo. He isn’t allowed to tease her anymore. 

“That can be arranged,” Sylvain says smugly before he bends at the knees. 

Ingrid is lifted up and over his shoulder before she can say anything else, but she shrieks as he takes off towards her bedroom, carrying her like a sack of potatoes in a not-very-sexy manner. 

“Sylvain!”

He palms her ass in response and she whacks his back. 

He drops her unsteadily on her feet in the centre of her room and immediately tries to push his face back against her neck, but Ingrid catches his face and kisses him hard instead. She walks backward, tugging him along with her until her knees hit the edge of her bed. She tries to sit down and pull him down, but Sylvain catches her, keeping her up on her feet. 

“Not yet,” he says teasingly.

Sylvain slides her shirt up her torso, forcing Ingrid to lift her arms so that he can pull it up and over her head. She is, to Sylvain’s delight, wearing a V Fashions bra that is pink and black and he discards her shirt immediately, thumbing at the straps of her bra. 

“This is pretty,” he teases. 

Ingrid squirms, but Sylvain is bigger than her and he easily unhooks her bra. Ingrid huffs, but pulls it off, discarding it onto her floor. His eyes drop down and he works the buttons of her jeans open and starts pushing them down. Ingrid tries to grab his shirt in return, but Sylvain pauses in undressing her to stop her, eyes glinting. 

“I thought you wanted a private show?”

Ingrid’s eyes widen and her hands drop away instinctively. Sylvain takes advantage of her distraction and works her jeans over her hips and down her thighs, taking care to be liberal with his strokes and touches of her exposed leg. Ingrid wiggles, kicking her jeans off and then Sylvain pushes her back until she’s sitting on the edge of the bed. 

She watches as he steps back from her, smirking. 

He grabs his shirt by the bottom hem in the middle and pulls it up slowly over his abs. Ingrid watches as he slowly exposes his chest, staring at her with a heavy look in his eye as he does. She crosses her legs at the ankle as he strips the shirt off. He winks at her and gives her a slow, dramatic turn. 

Ingrid laughs and folds her arms over her chest, trying not to fill in the rest of Sylvain which she actually knows what it looks like now thanks to his damn photoshoot. Sylvain drops his hands to the ties of his pants and slowly starts unlacing them. Ingrid holds her breath as he starts pulling the fabric down over his hips. 

She uncrosses her arms as he exposes a pair of black briefs, also branded with V Fashions. Her thighs tighten at the sight of the bulge already building at his groin. She curls her fingers tightly into the sheets of her bed and leans forward. Sylvain finishes stripping out of his pants until he’s standing in front of her in just his underwear. 

He hooks his thumbs in the band of his underwear and grins at her. “How’s that for a show?”

Ingrid reaches out, grabbing the band of his underwear and yanks him towards her. Sylvain stumbles and Ingrid shifts so that he lands on the bed next to her and then she pushes his shoulder until he crawls back on her bed until he’s lying on his back, grinning at her. She doesn’t waste more time, sliding up so that she’s straddling his thighs. 

Sylvain smirks at her and Ingrid runs her hand over the material of his briefs. His smug look twitches as she deliberately avoids directly over his bulge as she bunches the fabric up in her hands. 

“Are you sponsored by V Fashions or something?” she asks teasingly, leaning forward to press a light kiss to his lips. 

“C’mere,” he beckons, tugging on her arms until she crawls up to sit directly over his hips. 

He’s almost fully hard underneath her as she settles back, slotting her hips over his. Ingrid gasps as the friction brushes between her thighs. She rocks her hips in a slow, rolling motion forward and Sylvain groans beneath her, his hips bucking a bit. 

He plays with the band of her underwear as Ingrid continues to grind down against him, the friction sitting in all the places she needs it. Sylvain meets her motions with shallow rocking thrusts of his own and Ingrid lets out a short moan as she rocks down over him, enjoying the stimulation. 

Sylvain reaches up to palm at her breasts and Ingrid arcs her back into his touch as she continues the rocking motions, moaning again. 

“Fuck, Ing, you look so hot riding me like that.” 

He thumbs at her nipple with one hand and digs his fingers into her hip as he coaxes her into a faster roll. Ingrid whines, her eyes closing as she focuses on the sensation of Sylvain’s hips rubbing against her. 

“Hey,” he says after a moment, dropping his hand down. “These should go,” he suggests, thumbing the band of her underwear. 

Ingrid drops her hands to the bed on either side of his torso and leans forward, lifting her hips up and breaking the point of contact. Sylvain immediately helps her, sliding her underwear down over her hips and Ingrid shivers as the damp fabric peels away from her. She kicks it off awkwardly, almost kneeing Sylvain in the crotch and he laughs. She settles back over him and resumes her motions and Sylvain groans. 

“You good?” she asks teasingly, pressing one hand against his abs, enjoying the feel of his muscled chest. 

He scoffs, his hands tightening on her hips. “I dunno, Ing, I have this really hot girl who’s just riling me up.” He cuts off, with a growl as she pushes down in a hard motion that makes her mouth fall open at the feeling. 

“Fuck,” she mutters. “Okay, condom,” she gasps. “Where is it?”

Sylvain looks over towards his pants. “Wallet,” he suggests. 

Ingrid crawls off of him and grabs his pants, digging into the pocket for his wallet. She locates the condom easily enough and when she turns back to the bed, Sylvain is sitting up and kicking his briefs off, exposing his cock. He’s hard and the images really,  _ really _ don’t do him the justice he deserves. 

Once his underwear is gone, he raises an eyebrow at her. “Need something?” 

She chucks the condom at him. “Shut up.”

“I meant my hand, Ingrid. Do you need me to finger you?” he clarifies and while the bluntness probably shouldn’t turn her on, it absolutely does. 

Ingrid hesitates just long enough that he beckons her over and pulls her down so that she lies next to him. He rolls onto his side and his hand pushes between her legs, his index finger tracing a light circle around her clit. Ingrid gasps and her head jerks forward, falling against his shoulder. Sylvain traces a few rough circles and she whines against him, twisting until he hushes her. 

He pushes one finger into her relatively quickly and Ingrid moans at the sensation. He pumps it in and out shallowly and Ingrid trembles. She’s already worked up, but she’s not sure if she wants to come here, on his hand. Sylvain sinks a second finger in without warning and Ingrid moans loudly, grabbing his shoulder and digging her nails in as her body trembles. 

He works his hand in and out. “You’re so wet, Ingrid,” he says. “So good on my fingers like this.”

“Shut up,” she gasps as he picks up the pace that he’s fucking her on her hand. “Just finish the job, Sylvain,” she whines. 

“You want to come here? You’re tight around my fingers, Ing.” He kisses her neck and sucks lightly. “I can make you come here,” he taunts. 

She rocks her hips into his hands and then grabs his wrist. She pulls his hand out and her legs clench at the sensation. She shoves his shoulder back and rolls him back onto his back. She grips his cocks and pumps it a few times and Sylvain groans, his hips bucking underneath her as he curses. 

Ingrid fumbles for the condom now lying on the bed and tears it open. She hurriedly rolls it on and pushes Sylvain’s shoulders down as she crawls over his hips. She braces one hand on his chest and looks down, grabbing the base of his cock loosely as she lifts her hips. 

Ingrid inches down, brushing the tip of him against her folds as she closes her eyes. Sylvain groans again and his hips twitch as he holds himself back to give her the time that she needs. Ingrid sinks down until he’s sheathed his tip in her and she whines. Sylvain’s fingers definitely helped the process, but it’s still a stretch as she slowly slides down, taking him in slowly. 

Ingrid whines as she takes him in, pushing on his chest for leverage as she goes slow. Sylvain exhales shakily, his hands gripping her hips as he guides her down. When he bottoms out, Ingrid takes a deep breath. There’s no pain, just pressure and heat and Ingrid carefully rocks up and down. 

Sylvain groans. “Fuck, Ingrid, you’re tight.”

Ingrid laughs breathily as she shifts on her knees and slowly lifts herself up. Sylvain grunts as she starts to slide up and he lifts her a bit, helping her move. Ingrid goes halfway before sinking down. She hums as the pressure builds and Sylvain helps her move into a smoother motion. She uses the rocking of his hips underneath her and the strength of her thighs as she moves into a bouncing motion as she rides him. 

“Sylvain,” she moans as she speeds up, taking him in more quickly. 

He grunts in response and uses his grip on her hips to guide her into a faster motion. Ingrid focuses on riding him as hard as she can, her mouth falling open as he hits deep inside her when she flattens their hips together. 

“Fuck, fuck,” she mutters as Sylvain guides her into a faster pace. 

“God you feel good,” he groans. “You look amazing too, fucking yourself on me like this.”

Ingrid moans as he meets her next motion by jacking his hips up, putting more force behind her motion. “That,” she begs breathily, “like that.”

“Yeah?” Sylvain says and he does it again. 

Ingrid moans as she rides him. Her thighs are strong, but Sylvain’s hands are digging into the flesh of them and she’s starting to float away, getting closer to the high she’s been chasing since she first kissed him. 

“Sylvain,” she moans his name. 

He grunts in response and lessens his grip on her hip as he shifts his hand to the front of her hip. His thumb rubs hard over her clit and her legs almost buckle as she keens. She manages to keep the pace she had set with his help and it doesn’t take much longer with Sylvain still thrusting up to meet her and now rubbing at her clit for her body to start shaking as she comes with a wail. 

She moans as she clenches around him and sinks down, taking him in fully. Sylvain rocks against her shallowly as she comes and rides out her orgasm. He keeps rubbing at her clit until she stops trembling above him. Ingrid opens her eyes and looks down at Sylvain. His legs are clenched to prevent himself from moving while she’s still oversensitive, but she can feel him still painfully hard inside of her and when she shifts he grunts. 

Ingrid rocks her hips back and forth slowly, trying to make him think that she’s just trying to get comfortable, but then his hands tighten on her hips and he’s rolling them so that he’s pinning her down against the mattress. He pulls out slowly and laughs faintly, leaning forward so he’s pressing his head against her shoulder. 

“Don’t do that, Ingrid,” he murmurs. 

She brushes aside some of the hair flopping in his eyes. “Why not?”

His eyes blaze as he lifts his head to stare her down. “Because then I’m going to fuck you like I mean it and you’re too sensitive for how I want to fuck you.”

Ingrid feels her cheeks flush and she slides her hand down across his chest, grazing over his fair chest hair. She almost makes it down to his hips, when Sylvain grabs her wrist, stopping her. He stares her down and then he presses his hips down against hers, just slowly rocking against her. Ingrid’s buzz is finally fading and she shifts, pushing her hips out so that he rubs against more of her and she lets out a breathy noise. 

“I dunno, Sylvain,” she says, “I think I’ve only had half of a show tonight.”

She rocks her hips up against him again, but then Sylvain grabs her hips, pinning her down against the mattress. He rocks against her, the tip of him just poking at her folds as he stares her down. 

“You’re sure you want the rest of it?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly. 

Ingrid cants her hips up against him. “I’m sure,” she says. 

He slides a hand under her right thigh and scoops her leg up as he pushes in slowly. Ingrid’s toes curl and she tilts her head back, gasping. She’s definitely still sensitive, but Sylvain starts slow, giving her a little more time to adjust. Ingrid fumbles her hand down to where he’s gripping her thigh and he taps her wrist. 

“Good,” she breathes out. “More.”

Her reassurance is all he needs as he hikes her leg up higher and pushes in faster. Ingrid gasps as he touches something deeper inside her and his next stroke draws a heavy moan out of her. Sylvain picks up the pace until he’s slamming their hips together and grunting on every stroke. The familiar warmth starts to build in her stomach as he thrusts and she whines, lifting her hips to meet his strokes. 

He grabs her other leg, hefting it up and then pulls both her legs up so they’re almost over his shoulder. His next thrust sinks in so deeply that she whimpers against him, his name dying halfway through. Sylvain doesn’t slow down for her now, pounding his hips against hers as he chases his own high. 

Ingrid moans, long and loud as he wraps his hand around her leg to find her clit, rubbing at it hard. She trembles against him, trying to move her hips desperately. Sylvain has total control here, however, and he sets a brutal pace as he fucks into her. Ingrid is teetering just at the edge of a second orgasm when Sylvain swears heavily and jams a few short, hard thrusts into her. 

Warmth floods inside the condom and he furiously rubs at her clit in short, hard circles until she basically wails beneath him. Ingrid comes with his name on her tongue, following him, and she’s still trembling, riding out her aftershocks as Sylvain finally slips free. He awkwardly drops her legs and then jumps up to dispose of the condom. 

Ingrid rolls onto her side to watch him walk into the bathroom and admires his sculpted ass. It’s annoyingly pretty. Just like everything else about him. When he turns back to her, Ingrid lets her eyes roam shamelessly across his abs. Sylvain notices her staring and pauses to strike a ridiculous pose in the door frame. 

Ingrid laughs and slides over on her bed, holding out her hand. “Come here.”

They crawl into bed next to each other, breathless and buzzing and Ingrid rests her head against his chest. His heart is beating loudly beneath her and she hums happily. Sylvain traces a circle with his finger over her bare shoulder. 

“You okay?”

“Yup,” she confirms happily. 

“Ok for a first time?”

Ingrid tilts her head, propping herself up to look down at him. “Sylvain,” she taps his cheek with a finger, “you’re hot and the sex was great, but that’s not why I want to be with you, remember?”

He chuckles and snags her hand that’s waving around his face and kisses it. “Yeah, you’re obviously here for the private show.”


End file.
